"I've had enough of this!" said the man, as he doubled a clothes line. "You were not home to supper last night; but I said nothing at breakfast, because I wanted to think it out. I'm going to give you what you need. Your mother spoiled you, and I always knew it." He struck the impassive boy round the legs. Partly from this, partly from the mention of his mother, the tears welled into his eyes, and, the barriers removed, the uprush overwhelmed him. Down on his face in the ash heap he fell, sobbing convulsively, while the unrestrained tears streamed through his fingers. "Dead!" he said in a choked voice. "Dead, dead! Oh, father, she's dead! She's dead!" The abashed stepfather stayed his hand. "I can't very well whip you, boy, if you feel like this," he said kindly. "I never thought you cared for your mother. You didn't take on like this when she died, nor for your sister. Come into the house when you're through crying. I don't like to hear you." The man went in, troubled in mind at having misjudged the boy. The boy sobbed his aching heart dry on the ashes, then lifted his face, drawn, tear stained, and old--very old, for a boy. "Zenie!" he called softly. "Zenie, Zenie!" The voice rose to a wail. "Come back! Zenie, come back! Come back! Oh, God, send her back! Please send her back! Zenie, come back!" It ended in a cry of utter despair. Then, close beside him, so close that it seemed almost within his ear, he heard a voice, clear and distinct, yet without sound or volume, say, "Yes, I will come." He stood up and looked around. No one was there. He went out of the shed; but the back yard was empty. He went back to the ash heap, marveling to the extent that his benumbed faculties would permit; and as he sat there, a peace, a tranquillity, and a content that he had known only in her presence, came to him, and the dragging pain at his heart passed away. Peace, tranquillity, and content are poor attributes with which to fight the battle of life. Being a boy, he soon worked clear of the shadow of death; but, without the helpful influences of his life he relapsed into the old shyness and indifference. Deprived of all that he had loved, he found nothing new to love; and, thus unreceptive, he ceased to respond to it when given and became unlovable. He lost ground in study, became sullen, suspicious, and at last incorrigible. When he had worn out his teachers' and his stepfather's patience, he left school ungraduated, with a scant knowledge of the lower studies to his credit. He went to work at driving a delivery wagon, and failed. Again and again he obtained work of this character, but could not hold his place.